


A Third Cathedral

by Cinnamon_Swirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The West Wing
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Beelzebub is So Done (Good Omens), Crisis of Faith, Episode: s02e22 Two Cathedrals, Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Healer Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), gabriel is a tantruming toddler, or maybe a dog with a bone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Swirl/pseuds/Cinnamon_Swirl
Summary: It might have gone unnoticed. It should have gone unnoticed. Do you know how many people denounce God on a daily basis? And sure Jed Bartlet was strong for a human, clever, brave with a bright soul, but he didn’t have any occult powers nor devine ones. So it would have been just another voice amongst thousands if it wasn’t for one Gabriel the Fucking Archangel.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning on a little ficlet where Crowley and Aziraphale help President Bartlet through his crisis of faith after Mrs. Landingham's death in the Two Cathedrals, well not help him through so much as be there to witness and make a few jokes maybe?  
> Anyway Gabriel decided to show up and drag Beelzebub along with him, and Death just wanted to pop by and see our lovely couple and well plot happened and I'm 8000 words in and only almost finished...
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Crowley loved ordering in. It was third on his list of Best Things Ever. Only the polio vaccine and indoor plumbing ranked higher. 

Aziraphale had wanted thai for dinner and ordering in allowed him to stay on the old coach in the bookshop, an angelic lap pillowing his head, a soft angelic hand carding through his hair and an angelic voice reading out loud while still providing the owner of these angelic delights with the Tom yam boran he was craving.

He didn’t deserve this. These long soft evenings just being with his angel, being allowed to think of Aziraphale as his angel, being read to, being warm and content.  
He was a demon, fallen, unwanted, unforgivable, unlovable and incapable of love. Only, he did love Aziraphale with every shred of his damned being and Aziraphale loved him. Aziraphale forgave him and wanted him and he couldn’t understand it.

“You’re brooding again.” Aziraphale said from above him. 

Crowley huffed “Not brooding just… Thinking”

“That's not very good for you either dear.” Aziraphale said mildly and doubled his efforts on Crowley’s scalp, scratching lightly in a way he knew would chase any and every thought right out of that head. 

Crowley sighed and melted a little deeper into the coach. His eyes fluttered closed and the next thing he knew, his head was being lowered gently onto a pillow and Aziraphale was getting to his feet.

“Mffngk?” He asked blearily. That earned him a smile.

“I’m going to write a dictionary one day.” Aziraphale promised and then explained that the food is here.

Crowley climbed up to a position that resembled sitting. Ugg, he had basically invited a human over to knock at the bookshop door and disturb them.  
He hated ordering in.

They ate mostly in silence, trading only a few words over the spicy dishes. Crowley should have realised that wasn’t good but he was too busy basking in Aziraphale’s warmth to realise the silence meant that now it was the angel that was thinking.

“Crowley, what was it you were thinking about?” Aziraphale asked once they were done with the food and seated together sharing a nice red.

“Hmm? Oh” Crowley took a sip of his wine. “Just the usual existential angst and self flagellation. Nothing to worry about, angel.”

Aziraphale frowned. “It’s only, we didn’t really talk about… What happened.”

“Angel, we haven’t talked about anything that has happened in the past six thousand years. Death, taxes and us not talking. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“It doesn’t have to go that way.” Aziraphale said cautiously.

Crowley took a deeper sip of his wine. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this.  
“What… What do you want to talk about exactly?”

Aziraphale laid his glass down and started fidgeting with the ring on his finger. Crowley wondered if the only reason the angel got that ring was so that he had something to fidget with and what would he do if Crowley grabbed those hands and pulled the blessed ring right off.  
“Are you angry darling?”

Crowley sputtered. He didn’t really know what to expect but that was not the question he was expecting. “What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about”

“Angel, I really really don’t. Who exactly am I supposed to be mad at?”

“Crowley, for the past month we’ve been thinking I was dying. Then it turns out I wasn’t dying, I was just Falling, slowly and not to Hell but to Earth and then She shows up and gives me an official post as the guardian of Earth and we don’t even really know what that means and we’re just supposed to, what? Carry on?”

That of course was all true. After Armageddon didn’t happen they had only six months of peace before strange things started happening to Aziraphale. His feathers fell slowly one by one, he suffered aches and pains in different parts of his corporation, he grew weaker and lost control of his miracles. It was easy to dismiss at first but after three weeks he was ill enough to have to stay in bed. He was feverish and trembling and Crowley had already tried everything they could think of. He had even spoken to Heaven and Hell but they were no help.  
Aziraphale was slipping in and out of consciousness and Crowley was lying besides him on their bed. He didn’t have any tricks left. He didn’t see any way out.

The prayer came trickling out of him like the last few drops of water in a sponge. It was a weak hopeless prayer. Nothing like the dramatic yelling he had done over the years. Just a choked sob and a plea to please please don’t let him die. Not now when they finally have the rest of eternity. He will never know if his prayer did anything or if that is how it was supposed to happen all along but Aziraphale’s fever broke, he woke up and grew stronger and just a couple of days later he was strong enough to take a walk outside so they went to a small coffee shop.  
Crowley had a double espresso. Aziraphale had tea and a slice of cheesecake.  
It was nice and peaceful and then She showed up and sat at their table like she owned the place. Granted, she technically owns everything but still.

Truth be told, Crowley didn’t care. He had his Angel back, that's all that mattered. So when she gave the angel his new post Crowley was okay with it and when she reached inside of him and opened a valve on a long rusted pipe of healing power he was okay with it, and when she whispered to him “keep him safe my little serpent” he most definitely was okay with it because keeping Aziraphale safe was the only thing he was planning on doing for the next millenia.  
“Angel, are you angry?” He asked.

This time it was Aziraphale’s turn to sputter. “I think I rather am.” He admitted at last. “It just seems so unfair. You’re finally free of Hell and now you have to follow me around on some mission we don’t even really understand. She shouldn’t have asked you that”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s what you’re angry about, Angel? You almost died, you were forced to Fall and your angry cause She told me to keep you safe?” 

“Well, you know I don’t belong in Heaven Crowley. Being an Angel of Earth is perfect for me.”

Crowley smiled. “It’s like she knew what you needed and gave it to you”

“Yes” 

Crowley slipped off the coach, took Aziraphale’s fidgeting hands in his own and looked up at the angel. “She knew what I needed too.” He said.

Aziraphale looked at him, at their conjoined hands in his lap. “Oh” He said when it finally sunk in. “You’re alright with this? With me? You know?”

“Yes, Aziraphale. I am one hundred percent alright with you not dying and not Falling. I am one hundred percent alright with God herself telling us to stay together.  
Aziraphale,” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know how long it has been since I saw Her because last time I saw Her time wasn’t a thing. I didn’t think I’d ever get to see Her again, let alone have Her speak to me and She sat with us and we had an actual conversation. That’s…” He closed his eyes against the tears that gathered there. “I don’t deserve that…”

“You do, Crowley you’re... “ 

Crowley shook his head and ignored Aziraphale’s protests “The only reason that happened was because of you Aziraphale. You know that. Even if you’re right and I do merit to see the face of God now, that too is because of you. You… Doing the right thing doesn’t just happen to you... You showed me…” He leaned his head down into Aziraphale’s lap, unable to continue. “Fuck.” He mumbled against the cream clad thighs.

Aziraphale smoothed down Crowley’s red hair and rubbed gently at his scalp until he was able to take a steadying breath and look up. He smiled through glossy eyes.  
“See why we shouldn’t talk about things?”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh. “Come here, love” He pulled Crowley up to the sofa and they sat there wrapped up in each other, Crowley marveling at how quickly he got used to being called love by an angel .

“I’m glad you're okay with everything that has happened” Aziraphale said after a while “and I know you won’t believe me but, you deserve to talk to God if that’s what you want.”

The ‘you deserve me, and this and everything good in this world’ went unsaid but somehow, maybe for the first time in his existence Crowley did hear it and Crowley also knew that Aziraphale is planning to say it over and over until Crowley finally does believe it.

At some point they untangled themselves from each other and retrieved their wine glasses. They then went on to drink quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol and talk about things like honey bees and tree frogs and Pluto losing its planetary status.

Then they stumbled up to bed together deciding they’ll deal with the hangover tomorrow. This lovely drunken haze was just too lovely to give up. Of course this decision was actually due to the lovely dronken haze and there is no guarantee it was the right one. It probably wasn’t.

An angel and a demon were safe and warm in each other's arms. They didn’t see the tropical storm coming. It was May, there shouldn’t be a tropical storm coming.

***

The doors closed behind the president of the United States and he was alone in the National Cathedral.  
“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?” He said, looking up unflinching. Then his words caught up with him and he swallowed thickly but it was all too much and he carried on stepping forward down the aisle.  
“She bought her first car and you hit her with a drunk driver. What? Is that supposed to be funny?”

He continued walking forward “‘You can't conceive, nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God,’” says Graham Greene.”  
His hands swung at his side, stride widing as he gained momentum “I don't know whose ass he was kissin' there, 'cause I think you're just vindictive. What was Josh Lyman, a warning shot? That was my son.” His voice broke a little on the confession but it did nothing to quelch the anger.  
“What did I ever do to yours but praise his glory and praise his name? There's a tropical storm that's gaining speed and power. They say we haven't had a storm this bad since you took out that Tender ship of mine in the North Atlantic last year. Sixty-eight crew.”  
His voice, low in deference to the location till now raised just a bit  
“You know what a Tender ship does? Fixes the other ships. It doesn't even carry guns, it just goes around, fixes the other ships and delivers the mail. That's all it can do.”

He looked up at the cross “gratias tibi ago, domine. Yes, I lied. It was a sin. I've committed many sins. Have I displeased you, you feckless thug?”

It all came out in a rush. “Three point eight million new jobs, that wasn't good? Bailed out Mexico, increased foreign trade, thirty million new acres of land for conservation, put Mendoza on the bench, we're not fighting a war, I've raised three children…”

He reached the dais now and made his way up the steps “that's not enough to buy me out of the dog house?” His hands spread wide in an aching demand “haec credam a deo pio, a deo justo, a deo scito? cruciatus in crucem”

He stood there between the pillars and he should have been dwarfed by them. By the sheer magnitude of the stone and the marble but nothing in creation was larger than his denouncement right then. “tuus in terra servus, nuntius fui; officium perfeci.”

He grew tired of yelling into the void “cruciatus in crucem” There was nothing here for him, he dismissed it all and turned his back. “eas in crucem”. 

***

It might have gone unnoticed. It should have gone unnoticed. Do you know how many people denounce God on a daily basis? And sure Jed Bartlet was strong for a human, clever, brave with a bright soul, but he didn’t have any occult powers nor devine ones. So it would have been just another voice amongst thousands if it wasn’t for one Gabriel the Fucking Archangel.

Angels as a general rule were being of divine love. They were created for three things.  
To worship the Almighty, to obey their superiors and to love creation. Gabriel had no problem with the first two. Worship was sort of a given when faced with something omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent that created you out of the void, gave you a name and consciousness and a reason for being. 

Obedience was easy to demand of his underlings and seeing that he hadn’t actually received any orders since Adam and Eve left the garden that was his only close encounter with obedience in six thousand years. 

The third however was exceedingly difficult for Gabriel to come to terms with. Especially once he spent time in actual creation. It was so… dirty and messy and smelly. Not that he questioned the divine will of course. Never that. It was just that She couldn’t possibly have meant he had to love those creatures as they were. Crawling all over their little rock. Drowning in carnal sin and forbidden desires and... Ugg gross matter.  
No it had very quickly become clear to him that his love, true divine love was to love what they could be. They were created in Her image for Heaven’s sake. They had the potential to be so close to the Almighty. Instead they spent their very limited time on earth pursuing things like Sushi and orgazms and comic books. He truly loved what they could be, remorseful, meak, plagued with guilt. But when they were not those things, and mostly they were not those things he was more than happy to love them to destruction.

Take this human for example. He was in a church. In the presence of holy divinity and he had the audacity to yell at God. To demand answers. To curse Her to Hell.  
How did that even happen? And did he fall dead at the feet of the cross? Did the earth open its mouth to swallow him down to Hell like he deserved?  
Of course not. He was Human. Nothing lurked just at the edge of a question to pull him away from grace. His blessed soul still shone as bright as a bloody supernova. Ready to blow all of creation to kingdom… Oh, Gabriel gasped audibly. this was… A smirk played at the edge of lips. This was truly divine.

He pulled his cell phone out hurriedly calling for the Post Master. There were some quick deliveries to be made.

*** 

Crowley was now almost used to waking up wrapped around a warm angel, spending that hazy time between sleep and wakefulness with soft touches and lingering kisses but the space besides him was empty and cold. A muffled thump from below got him out of bed, into a pear of jeans and to the top of the stair in a single breath.

“Angel?” He called out hurrying down to the main floor.

“Here dear” The angel called from somewhere deep in the stacks. “I’m sorry, Did that wake you?”

“Yah, s’fine. What are you doing?”

He knew better than to venture into the stacks looking for Aziraphale. The bookshop had very little spatial awareness and even less understanding of the laws of physics. It wasn’t only bigger on the inside, that he could probably navigate it also had little nooks and crannies that appeared and disappeared at will (Whose will was the wrong question to ask here) and it had shelves upon shelves of books that wound around each other in a madman's idea of a labyrinth.  
The only reason Crowley had never gotten lost in the bookshop was that he never actually looked for a book in the bookshop. He left that to Aziraphale who knew every bit of it, how and why it existed and what it was hiding.

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long before the angel came out and smiled at him.  
“What’s wrong?” Crowley demanded. Aziraphale was… disheveled. His bowtie was untied, his jacket was missing and his sleeves were rolled up. There was a fine coating of gray dust on his trousers and in his hair which had curls sticking up every which way.

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale said distractedly. His eyes roamed the room never staying in one place for long and not looking at Crowley at all. “There’s something missing I have to find.” 

“What is it?” Crowley asked

“Huh?” Aziraphale finally looked at him but his eyes were still unfocused.

“What is it you’re looking for, Angel? I’ll help you look.” 

“Oh, I…” Aziraphale moved to the back to sit down on the high backed winged chair. “I assumed it was a book. That’s why I was in the stacks but when you asked me just then I didn’t actually know what to say.”

“How long have you been looking for it?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Sometime during the night? I’m not sure. I think I just… Misplaced...” He stood up again “If I just look over there maybe…” He started off toward his desk.

Crowley caught him with a hand on his arm. “Aziraphale wait. Take a breath.” 

“We don’t need to breathe dear” Aziraphale said, but stood with him, silent nonetheless. “This is a thing isn’t it?” He asked at last.

“Seems so” Crowley said with a grimace. He pulled Aziraphale back down to the coach. “Can I Look?”

Aziraphale nodded his agreement and Crowley Looked. He saw the Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the third Emanation, Guardian of Earth. His four faces, the lion, the eagle, the shark and the man all distinct and melded together, his wings huge, light blue and perfect. His whole being was glowing softly in a warm sonlit brilliance. God he was beautiful. Crowley could stay like this all day just looking at the radiance that was Aziraphale’s true form on the physical realm.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. Right, right Crowley blinked. He’ll be able to gaze lovingly at his angel after he makes sure nothing nefarious is going on. Nothing seemed wrong on the surface but he’ll have to take a closer look to make sure. He snaked out a tenderill of himself, a scaly black mist that wound it’s way over the faces and the wings and into the warm glowing core. There were no dim patches, no wisps of suggestion, no ropes of compulsion. Nothing to explain why Aziraphale had spent hours looking for something he can’t even name.

Suddenly Crowley felt something pulling on him. Aziraphale was drawing his energy, his will.  
“Angel, what?”

“If we look together we might be able to…” Aziraphale trailed off. The need to start moving making him strum in a high pitch, impatient cord.

“Alright.” Crowley said and Aziraphale was off. In hindsight the fact that Aziraphale was able to resist long enough to get Crowley’s consent was a testament to just how strong the angel was and maybe to how devoted he was as well but Crowley won’t dwell on that.  
Their corporations remained in the shop, it was an invisible four faced principality and a huge coiling snake in black and red that made their way down the streets of London.  
At a crossroad Aziraphale paused and Crowley pushed some more of his own willpower into the angel.

Aziraphale turned left. 

They continued like that for a while twisting and turning through the streets until they stopped at a busy motorway. There had been a head on collision the delivery man died on impact. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed when he saw the scene. All the tension rushing out of him in a breath.  
Crowley seemed to absorb all that tension and then some because there on the road stood Death. 

The delivery man who had just died got to his feet. 

“A MESSAGE FOR ME AGAIN?” Death thundered at the delivery man. Because death either whispers or thunders and either way it’s in all caps.

“Yes sir,” The delivery man said. “Message reads ‘Come and see’ but also,” he indicated the opened boot of his truck. “I was told this is a rush job and that you can accept the rest of the packages as well?”

“ALL RIGHT” Death agreed.

Aziraphale stepped up. “Excuse me,” He said and then because no one took notice “EXCUSE ME”

Crowley shivered a little at the angelic voice.  
Death looked up from the clipboard he was signing and surveyed the angel and demon before him. Crowley had encountered Death before of course. You don’t live on earth for six thousand years without becoming well acquainted. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t fighting the impulse to coil around the angel and drag him back to the bookshop. He was coiling around the angel just a little. Aziraphale gave him a loving glance before focusing again.

“Did you call me here?” He asked Death.

Death just looked at him silently. “Suppose not” Aziraphale conceded. “But something has and I wonder. Do you have to?”

“SORRY?” 

“Do you have to ‘go and see’ I mean you already went once and nothing came of it wasn’t that enough?”

Death looked at Aziraphale. Crowley allowed some more of himself to coil around the angel.

“I'VE HEARD ABOUT THE NEW POSTING, AZIRAPHALE. CONGRATULATIONS” 

Crowley didn’t know what to think about Death and Aziraphale being on a first name basis.  
“Oh, th… thank you” Aziraphale said.

“SO YOU PLAN ON TRAVELING TO WASHINGTON?” Death asked.

Aziraphale’s lion face ruffled it’s main, his shark one snapped his jaws. “Yes. Washington. Most definitely going to travel there.” He said with just one beat lost. “That’s Washington DC in the States right?”

“I HAVE GONE AND SEEN ALREADY” death mused, Crowley tightened his coils just a little. Fucking Hell, the angel is doing it again. “VERY WELL GUARDIAN. I WILL LET YOU HANDLE THIS. SEND MY REGARDS TO HEAVEN AND HELL. WE WILL MEET EVENTUALLY” With that he stretched his wings black as night and disappeared.

Now that was not ominous at all. Crowley started breathing again. 

“Darling,” Aziraphale said. “Would you let up a bit? I appreciate your concern only it’s getting hard to breath”

“You don’t need to breathe, Angel.” Crowley pointed out.

“Yes but since you started to breath again. Shouldn’t I get to as well?”

Crowley huffed and uncoiled himself.  
The delivery man who found himself not dead for the second time in less then a year pushed by the couple. “Excuse me gents, but I would really like to get going.”

“If you don’t mind,” Aziraphale said, picking up a long wooden box. “I’ll sign for this” 

The delivery man checked his invoice. “Looks like that’s not gonna be a problem sir.”

Aziraphale handed the box to Crowley, who quickly hid it in his coils, and signed the invoice. 

“Thanks you sir” The delivery man said, went back to his truck and drove off.

“He’s gonna have some stories for the grandkids” Crowley said watching him go.


	2. Chapter 2

The storm outside was like a wild beast all thunder and lightning and rage beyond the opened door. The storm inside was not much better as Jed cursed “Mrs. Landingham!” his mind was yelling. She should have been here. Her husband and her boys should all be here. They were good people who didn’t deserve their fate.

There was an intercom. He always knew there was one. He always joked he hadn’t learnt how to use it. Now however was the time for Truth and truth be told he didn’t think anyone was listening on the other side. He wanted to believe it. He told himself he believed it but now was a time for Truth.

“God doesn’t make cars crash and you know it” said Mrs. Landingham’s voice in his head.

And his mind was full of numbers now. He sat down hard on the straight backed chair.  
Forty four million Americans don't have health insurance.  
Homicide is the number one cause of death for black men under thirty five.  
Three million Americans are behind bars.  
Five million are drug addicts.  
Thirteen million American children live in poverty.

The numbers grew nuanced and multi layered in his mind crowding out every other thought, every other feeling. Mrs Landingham was gone. Her voice silenced by much louder, much more urgent voices.

The storm raged. A roll of thunder shook the windows, a flash of lightning cut through the heavy air. Two people appeared before the president. One was tall dressed impeccably in a dove grey suit, not a hair out of place. The second was short with black spikey hair and an oily air of drab exasperation.

He should do something. As the President of the United States. He should do something right now. People shouldn’t just appear in the oval office and stand there staring. There are people… agents… Only his head was too full. All the numbers, all his failures, all His failures. Everything was crowding around in there making it hard to think.

The tall man looked at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently.  
“They’re late.” He said. 

“Are you szzzure they received the summonzzz?” The shorter one asked a strange sort of buzzing in their voice.

“Of course they did. I sent the delivery man out myself.”

A soft buzzing was the only reply to that.

The president rubbed at his eyes and got shakily to his feet. “What is going on?” He managed through the haze of voices. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

The two beings exchanged a look then looked at him. Their combined looks hit him like a brick to the chest. He found it hard to breath, the only reason he didn’t physically stumble back was that their gaze held him squarely in place.

“Human.” The tall one said. His voice thundering louder than the storm. “You have renounced God today.”

“I… What?” Jed stammered. Was this his MS? Some kind of neurological attack?

And then his own voice was echoing back to him “cruciatus in crucem. eas in crucem”.

“Not that you were wrong” Said the short one. The buzzing in the room grew louder. “Juszzt look at the world. It’s falling apart at the szzzeams isn’t it?”

Jed shook his head violently trying to clear it. He always had a handle on things. Always understood the situation after the first three words of explanation but now he had no idea what was going on and it was very clear that whatever it was, it was not good.

And then there was a knock on the door to the oval office. 

The two that were clearly not people at all looked away from him. Allowing him to blink and breath but he wasn’t able to do much else.

The knock repeated itself.

The two not people exchanged a look. “The horszze people do not knock '' Said the shorter one.

The taller one grimaced. He snapped his fingers and the two turned back to the president. Again he couldn’t breath. 

“You can fix it all'' Said the tall one. His mouth stretched in what can only be called a smile if you never actually saw one.

His words wormed into Jed’s mind though echoing there along with the myriad of numbers that were already turning it to mush. 

There was a loud thump from the door but it remained closed. Muffled voices could be heard from beyond the doors, then a third thump.

“Come on human.” The thundering voice grew more urgent.  
“What?” Jed managed vaguely but his voice was drowned in the CRASH of a heavy oak door exploding.

Two men stood in the ruined doorway. “Oh, oh so sorry!” exclaimed one. He was blond and pudgy and was dressed in a three piece suit.

“Apologize after we make sure the world doesn’t end, Angel.” said the other fondly.

“Yes, quite.” he stepped forward, taking in the scene. His dark blue eyes fell on the president noting his shaky breath and clouded mind. “That's enough of that,” He said and snapped his fingers.

Jed Bartlet blinked. He then blinked again and then a third time. He had no idea how long it had been but he was finally able to think straight.  
He was in the Oval office. There were four strange people here. The door had blasted in but no secret service agents were anywhere to be seen.

“Who are you?” He demanded of the strangers.

It was the blond newcomer that answered. “I’m Aziraphale. This is Crowley, and those two are…” he blinked before saying “Gabriel and Beelzebub”

The president paused at those names. Those names should tell him something about this situation. He knew they should but he couldn’t grasp it.

The one called Crowley hummed an objection. Aziraphale looked at him and a silent conversation took place between the two. They then turned back to face the room.

The president fixed each of the four with a stare. Names were a good start. He took a deep breath, sat down and crossed one leg over the other.  
Clearly, whatever was happening, if it wasn’t due to his quickly deteriorating brain, was at least partially beyond his understanding and whatever he was capable of understanding would take some explaining. He didn’t have enough information to ask any intelligent questions so he took a second deep breath and waited.

Crowley grinned at him and Aziraphale managed to somehow beam his approval in a tight closed lip smile. The president just raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Aziraphale you and your demon have no business here” Gabriel said.

The president managed to hide his smirk. You can always learn more from arguments then from direct questions,

“I rather think we do,” Aziraphale answered mildly. 

There was no change that the president could see but Gabriel gasped suddenly. “What happened to you?”  
“Well, that’s rather complicated” Aziraphale said, “You see after the events at Tadfield I took some time to think things through and realised well… Earth has always been… ”

“He Fell,” Crowley said, cutting off his long winded explanation.

“He did not” Beelzebub buzzed indignantly. 

“Well, I didn’t say he fell far” Crowley grinned again. He seemed to really be enjoying this. “He isn’t of Heaven, he isn’t of Hell. He is of his own side”

“Our side dear” Aziraphale corrected “And earth’s ofcourse. So you see Archangel, I really do have business here”

And that word from Aziraphale was like a cool breeze lifting a vale off the president’s brain because of course he knew the name Gabriel and the name Beelzebub. Bits and pieces of the conversation fit into place painting a very... well biblical picture.  
He wondered briefly if he should be kneeling but nothing in these four filled him with much awe so he stayed where he was and now he had some intelligent questions to ask.  
He didn’t jump in though, waiting instead to see if they will reveal any more information on their own.

Gabriel, (oh God, the actual Archangel Gabriel, but Jed was good at boxing panic away for later) checked his watch again.

“They aren’t coming.” Crowley said flatley. 

There was a loud buzzing sound. “What do you mean?” asked Beelzebub.

“Aziraphale convinced the horse people to stop their ride.”

“Convinced them?” Gabriel sputtered.

“Well I only really had to convince the one” Aziraphale said.

Gabriel looked like he was hit by a truck.

“Guardian of the earth.” Crowley said proudly. “I was there when he was given his new post.”

“No.” Gabrie’s fists were clenched by his side “No no no no no. Only Heaven can post angels and no one in heaven did this” He indicated Aziraphale with disgust.

“Not only Heaven” Aziraphale said softly.

“No.” Gabriel said again. “It doesn’t even matter. We don’t need them. All we need is him” He turned back to the president. “Don’t you want to make everything better? All you have to do is agree to start the War. When Heaven wins there will be no more evil, no more suffering. Don’t you want that?” 

And of course the president wanted that. He desperately wanted to eradicate evil and alleviate suffering. 

“Mr President,” Aziraphale said. “We should probably explain…”

Jed raised a hand to hush him and no he was not going to think about the fact that he was hushing an actual angel of the Lord. He was the President of the United States, in the Oval Office and he was being persuaded to declare war. This was not the first time this has happened. He got this.

“You want me to declare a war? To allow you to destroy all evil?” He confirmed with Gabriel.

“I want you to declare The War” Gabriel said. He was smirking. Sure he had won.

“The War” The president agreed. “The war to end all war?”

Gabriel nodded enthusiastically. Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a surprised smile and then turned back to beam at the president.

He smiled at them but it seems Gabriel still didn’t get it.

“We already had that war” The president said, getting to his feet. “The one to end them all? It didn’t work. It won’t ever work. War doesn’t bring peace. Destruction doesn’t bring serenity. The only way to make the world better is to do it one step at a time. It’s hard work and you have to do it every day.  
I’m not going to declare your war. I am not going to give you permission to make billions suffer in the name of some final peace. It’s not going to work.”

“Of course it is.” Gabriel said. “Beelzebub, help me out here”

But they had checked out of the conversation a while ago. They were staring at Crowley, buzzing quietly. At the sound of their name they blinked. “She... She gave him his new posting.” They said haltingly. “Crowley, you were there. You saw her.” They blinked again.

“I did,” Crowley said softly.

“Lord Beelzebub,” Aziraphale said kindley “you’re welcome at the bookshop if you want to come and talk.”.

“Yes.” Crowley agreed absently then he caught himself “Wait, what? Angel, that’s a Prince of Hell you just invited to our home.”

“Mmm, errr, well.” Aziraphale bit his lower lip “Yes, Lord Beelzebub sorry, maybe we should meet somewhere else? A coffee shop? You have Crowley’s number right?”

“I…” Beelzebub sighed. “Gabriel, next time you want to start Armageddon? Don’t call me.”  
And with that they disappeared in a cloud of putrid smoke.

“One down” Crowley said and they both turned to Gabriel.

“It’s over,” Aziraphale said. “It hasn’t even begun. Archangel, you have no business here.”

“Like Hell I don’t” Gabriel was growing louder. His voice, becoming deeper and louder and layered somehow. “He denounced God!”

“Human prerogative.” Crowley said inching towards the president. “You know this Gabriel, as long as they're on this earth they have the right to wonder and question and rile against Her.” He was making his way towards the president as discreetly as possible while also managing not to sound bitter. 

“He was in a church!” Gabriel was yelling now, his purple eyes were blazing, two pairs of huge white wings burst out behind him and a long sword appeared in his hand. 

The president felt his knees turn to jelly. So this was awe. He definitely understood why all those people in the bible fell on their face when angels appeared. He should probably do that right about now. 

“Shit” Crowley cursed and jumped the last few feet tackling the president to the ground. They both hit it hard, miraculously missing the oak desk as they fell. Crowley managed to get them down without injury but his glasses clattered somewhere under the chair. 

“Shit” he said again. 

The president stared at the yellow eyes with the slit pupils. He opened his mouth to say something but realised his voice wasn’t really working right now.  
.  
“Gabriel, don’t.” Aziraphale said. He was standing in front of the Archangel hands held up trying to placate him. 

Crowley took hold of the president and dragged him behind the desk staying low to the ground.

“Very good snake.” Gabriel called out “upon thy belly shalt thou go”

Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Oh” the president breathed realising what Gabriel was referring to.

“Don’t” Aziraphale said again and now there was a cold anger in his voice. “You don’t know him, you don’t get to talk about him. You don’t even merit to stand in his presence.” 

“Really, Aziraphale? You’re upset about your boyfriend?” Gabriel mocked.

Aziraphale shook his head minutely. “You weren’t listening, Archangel. You never listen. I was given the earth to guard. I have a mandate here.” There was a loud whoosh and a huge pair of light blue wings came to rest against Aziraphale’s back. A sword appeared in his hand.

The president peaked from behind the desk. Crowley pulled him back. “Not a good idea.” He told him. “That's an archangel and a superpowered principality out there and it isn’t likely to end peacefully. It will not be easy on human eyes.”

“I don’t want to fight you Archangel.” Aziraphale said somewhere above them. “Armaggdon won’t happen. Just leave. No one has to get hurt.”

“Idiot!” Gabriel yelled, “Useless, good for nothing, pathetic excuse for an angel. He denounced her!”

“Yes, you’ve said.”

“Don’t you care at all?”

“Of course I care. I care about the millions of people who are ill and starving in the world, I care about the people who will be misplaced or hurt or killed in this storm you’ve created, I care about the women he was grieving, the one who was killed by a drunk driver. Do you care? Do you even know her name?”

“Pathetic!” Gabriel growled.

Crowley and the president remained behind the desk. There were flashes of light and clashes of swords, heavy thumps and sharp gasps of pain.  
Both their eyes were shot tight. The president could feel Crowley besides him thrumming with nerves. At one point when there was a strained shout from Aziraphale he had to physically hold him back from jumping up.  
It didn’t last very long before there was finally silence and then a panting Aziraphale called out to them to come out.

Crowley leaped to his feet and was hugging the angel before the president even registered that it was safe.

He climbed to his feet behind his desk and wanting to give them a minute of privacy, took the time to survey the damage. Not much was not damaged. The sofa was cut clear in two, both chairs were smashed, the rug was burnt and torn. In fact the only thing not damaged was the heavy oak desk they were hiding behind. How in the world is he going to explain this? What is going to happen in the world once he explains this? 

In the middle of the room Crowley took a step back and looked Aziraphale up and down noting the bruises, the scratches and scrapes, the cuts on the wings and the gaping hole in his thigh that was bleeding golden ichor. “Aziraphale damn it.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, already healing.” And that might have convinced him if it wasn’t for the fact that Aziraphale’s knees buckled just as the last word left his lips.

Crowley caught him and brought him to the coach which knew better then to stay broken when it was needed. Aziraphale’s wings disappeared as he was laid down gently. 

“We need a doctor.” The president said, coming out from behind the desk. “Where are all the people who work in this building and whose job it is to keep me safe? I’ll call…” He trailed off feeling like an idiot. This was a real live angel. What exactly is a doctor going to do? But he looked human now so maybe “Would a doctor be able to help?” He decided to aske finally.

Crowley was ignoring him. “I see the thigh. Is there anything else?”

Aziraphale smiled from the sofa. “A doctor might have been able to help a bit” He answered the president’s question instead of Crowley’s “but not much, and besides, Crowley will do fine”

"Where’s Gabriel?" The president asked.

“Angel,” Crowley almost growled, “Ignore the human for a minute. Are there any other wounds?”

“The human is the president of the united states dear, he is the leader of the free world. It wouldn’t do to ignore him. I discorporated Gabriel” he explained to the president. "And sent his corporation away."

"What does that mean?"

Crowley hissed and turned to the president. "It means it's all fine. No more danger in the foreseeable future. Now, shut up." He turned back to the Angel on the sofa who was pale and clammy and starting to shake a little. “Azssiraphale, sssombody's sake, Ssshow me how bad it issss”

There was a shift in the air. The president didn’t actually see anything change but he saw Crowley’s eyes grow wide. “Fuck” Crowley cursed, “Oh fuck Angel.” He swallowed hard.  
“I can heal it.” He said and it was unclear if this was a statement of fact or a plea. 

“I know you can love.” Aziraphale said. He was perfectly calm but that might have been the blood loss. “I trust you.”

“You, President.” Crowley called out. “I can’t keep my hold on time any longer so I’m going to put us back. That means that a lot of people are suddenly gonna realise the Oval Office was attacked. I don’t know what they're going to want to do but they can not move us. It’ll take a while, a couple of hours at least. I won’t have the concentration to speak and I’ll probably pass out at some point just please…” He looked up at the president.

“I won’t let them move you.” The president said. He didn’t understand what a hold on time was or what putting them back meant he couldn’t even imagine what was going to happen here, but these two saved his life and probably the rest of the world as well.

He stepped towards the gaping hole in the door. “I won’t let them move you”

Crowley turned back to Aziraphale. “It’ll be alright, Angel.”

“I love you.” Aziraphale said and closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I couldn't resist the cliffhanger.  
> I would love to hear what you guys think of the story!


	3. Chapter 3

Ron Butterfield had an office in the West Wing. It was small and unassuming, tucked away at the edge of a curridor and he could make it from his office to the Oval in less than two minutes.  
When the agent on duty called him over the comms telling him the president is okay but he needs to get over there and that there is an unexplainable situation he made it in thirty six seconds.

He ran down the hall, relieved to see president Bartlet standing next to the agent indeed alright only, the door to the Oval Office didn’t usually stay open like that and… It was a wreck. He pushed his way past the president not even bothering with an ‘excuse me’. There had clearly been a fight in the room, furniture was smashed, there were burn marks on the walls and rugs. It was still now, empty besides for two people on the coach. One laying one sitting over him. Both with eyes closed and seemingly oblivious to the world. He debated pulling his gun but they were obviously not a threat right now.

“Are you alright Mr. President?” He asked, finally turning towards the man who was still standing at the entrance right in front of a small crowd of people that had gathered there.

“I’m alright.” The president assured him. 

There was so much Ron wanted to ask but the look on the president’s face made it clear this is not the time. “What do you need, sir?” He asked instead.

“Besides for a good contractor?” The President quipped “I need this contained. There is an explanation but not everyone will hear it so, let's keep it under wraps if possible?”

There has been a fight in the Oval Office, one that involved fire and the smashing of furniture and no one has heard a thing. Let's keep that quiet. Why don’t we?

“Yes sir.” He spoke briefly into his communicator. A squad of six agents made their way down the hall, evacuating people as they went. Within 30 seconds the hall was deserted.

With that done Ron took a closer look at the two men in the office. The one laying down was badly beaten. “Will he need medical assistance sir?” 

“No.” The president said. “Ron, this is… Not something you’ve been trained for. I can’t explain it. Not right now but I promised they won’t be disturbed and I need your help keeping that promise. Can you do that?”

“Is there any threat to your well being?” Ron asked.

“No threat.” The president said.

Ron nodded. He spoke into his communications unit again ordering agents to stand guard at the end of the empty corridor. He then ordered a lockdown of the Oval office. No one is to enter or exit without his explicit permission.

“Thank you.” The president said.

“Yes sir.”

There was a crackling over the comms. “Charlie Young requests entry sir” Came a staticy voice.

“He’s here to call me to the press conference” The president said. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

“What do I do if they wake up?” Ron asked, indicating the two men on the sofa.

“You’ll stay here?” The president asked, unexpected relief painting his face. 

“Yes sir.”

The president nodded “Okay” He said and turned towards the rose garden doors.

“Sir, what do I do if they wake up?”

The president paused, glanced back and shrugged. Then he went out into the rain.

***

The rain poured down soaking through the president’s suit as he entered the car. Leo ducked in and they were off amidst sirens and flashing lights.

“I yelled in the national cathedral.” He said.

“Yes, those doors are not soundproof.” Leo retorted.

“You heard that?”

Leo nodded.

They reached the state department. President Bartlet climbed out of the car. The rain soaked through his suit, his hair clung to his forehead in wet whisps, icy droplets made a path down spine making him shiver.

He barely registered his staff flanking him from all sides but he felt the warmth they emitted and the shivers stopped abruptly.  
Someone handed him a towel, he used it to wipe his face.  
CJ came down towards him reminding him again about the front row to his right.  
He stood at the podium looking out over the room of clamoring reporters.  
Lawrence Altman was there, ready to ask a harmless question that had a harmless answer, but there was an angel and possibly Satan himself back at his office and tonight was a time for truth.

He pointed at the center of the room. “Yes, Sandy?”

Sandy looked mildly surprised but didn’t hesitest “Mr. President, can you tell us right now if you'll be seeking a second term?”

The president took a breath. This is the moment. “I'm sorry, Sandy, there was a bit of noise there, could you repeat the question?”

“Can you tell us right now if you'll be seeking a second term?”

The president slipped his hands off the podium and into his pockets. He looked to his right. The storm raged on. Time for truth.

***

It was still raining outside when the press conference ended and the president returned to the Oval Office. He had sent all the senior staff home to rest and convinced Leo to give him a couple of hours.

The office was much as he had left it. A mess of debris. Ron Butterfieled climbed to his feet when he entered.  
“They hadn’t moved at all this whole time.” He reported.

“Thanks Ron.” The president said in what was a clear dismissal.

“Yes sir.” Ron said. He looked at the couple on the coach one last time and then left.

The only chair left whole in the room was the one by his desk so he fixed himself a glass of single malt and settled down with a book to wait.  
And wait he did, for nearly an hour before the angel stirred, blinking his eyes opened, pulling himself up to a proper sitting position and settling Crowley comfortably against his side. 

“How are you feeling?” The president asked expecting to startle the angel at least a bit but he wasn’t phased at all when he answered.

“Much better, thank you.”

“And is he alright?” He indicated the angel’s companion who was still out cold.  
“Crowley went a little overboard with the healing” the angel explained. “He strained himself but he’ll be fine after a bit of a rest.” 

It’s really amazing how quickly one gets used to conversing with an angel.  
The president took a sip of his drink. “I’m going to take you at your word because I have a whole lot of questions to ask you.”

“Yes, I imagine you do” The angel didn’t sound happy about it but he didn’t make any move to stop him.

The president gazed at the dark rose garden beyond the office windows. He rubbed his face not really knowing where to start.  
The angel looked around the room. “We made a rather terrible mess didn’t we? Let me just…” He snapped his fingers and in a blink of an eye everything was fixed. The two chairs, the rug, the pictures in their frames, the ornaments and knick knacks. Everything perfectly back to place as if it had never been broken. Even the door mended itself and stood strong in the doorway.  
“That's better.” The angel said.

The president gasps “You do magic” He said in what was not one of his brighter moments.

“I do miracles.” The angel corrected him.

“Right, miracles. Because you are an angel.” 

The angel nodded. 

“You told me your name but I don’t…”

The angel adjusted his waistcoat. “I am the Principality Aziraphale, angel of the third Emenation, Guardian of The Earth.” He said very formally.

The president took another long swig of his whiskey. 

“Okay.” He said. “And is that Satan? Only the other… said something about a snake and he has the eyes.” 

Aziraphale smiled kindly. “He’s not Satan. He is a snake. The snake in fact but it wasn’t Satan.”

“Oh” the president said. At a loss again.

“Anthony J Crowley.” said the demon in question. He did manage to startle Aziraphale. “And I would love some of that whiskey you're drinking”

“Oh you drink?” The president asked. Again, not his most shining moment.  
“Yup” Crowley said, popping the p. And grinning “We’ve been drinking solidly more or less since alcohol has been invented with small stretches of sobriety only when absolutely necessary.”

“Really Crowley” The angel admonished.

The president handed them both tumblers and topped himself off. He sat down on the miraculously whole armchair and took another long drink.  
He then took a breath and rushed headlong into what he really wanted to say. Truth.

“That was the Archangel Gabriel here before. He wanted to start Armageddon because I denounced God and he was right. I did denounce Him. I yelled at Him in the national cathedral.”

“Yeah you did” Crowley said with way too much cheer.

“It was really very impressive” Aziraphale agreed “One doesn’t hear such prolific use of Latin these days”

“I don’t understand.” The president said, defeated. “I almost started armageddon.”

“Gabriel didn’t try to start armageddon because of you” Aziraphale assured him.

“No” Crowley finished the thought “He tried to start armageddon because he is a prick who could never get over the fact he wasn’t as smart as his older brother”

The president stared because this was the actual archangel Gabriel they were talking about which means said older brother must be Lucifer himself. The apocalypse almost started right here in the oval office.

“Like Crowley told Gabriel” Aziraphale explained “You have the Human prerogative. You are allowed to question everything. You were made to question everything. That's why this is the second time Gabriel had failed. Humans don’t just do as they’re told.”

Aziraphale looked at him with a fond smile and the president felt himself blush. He took another sip of his drink.  
“Wait, the second time?” He asked once his brain caught up.

“Yes” Crowley smiled. “Don’t get me wrong. You did a wonderful job with the whole war doesn’t work speech but the first one to stop Armageddon was an eleven year old kid yelling at his dad.” 

So an angel, a demon and the president of the united states sat in the Oval Office enjoying a rather good single malt and discussing the improbablity of three babies and two sets of parents all ending up in the same satanic nunnary. Just a few minutes into the story Crowley started nodding off so Aziraphale told the president the story of the first apocalypse that wasn’t. Then said angel explained how he got a promotion from guardian of the eastern gate of Eden to guardian of Earth. The demon zoned in and out of consciousness, waking up every now and then to clarify a point or just nuzzle closer to the angel. 

“So now we live in London Soho, in the bookshop.” Aziraphale concluded his tale and the president realised he had just been told a whole lot of information and sure, he had the highest clearance in the U.S government but he doubted it held any merit in the government on high.

“How much of this am I actually going to remember?” He asked.

Colwely huffed a laugh “Clever human.” He commented.

Aziraphale spread his hand out on his lap. “I don’t know. The children at Tadfield remember quite a bit but children’s minds are more elastic than adults’”

“That’s not what he’s asking, Angel.” Crowley said pointedly.

The president made himself look the angel squarely in the eye. “When you first came in you did something so that I won’t recognise the names Gabriel and Beelzebub” He explained. “Will you make me forget what happened here?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, glancing at Crowley and biting his lip. “I am sorry about that, I needed you clear headed you see. Couldn’t have religious doctrine confusing you just then.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. He was clearly not happy about what Aziraphale did. 

“I understand hard decisions that are made under fire.” The president said “But there is no danger now, so how much will you let me remember?”

Aziraphale fidgeted and brought his hands up to fuss with the gold ring on his finger.  
“It will make things easier if you don’t really remember much won’t it?”

Crowley stiffened. “Aziraphale.” He warned quietly.

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes alright dear.” He turned to the president “I won’t take any of your memories but like I said the human brain is a funny thing” 

“And how much can I tell people?” 

“Your choicssse” Crowley answered quickly. Hissing the last syllable in a way that made the air tingle.

“Yes dear. Though I don’t think they quite heard that in the furthest reaches of the bottomless pit” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s thigh in fond exasperation. Crowley shrugged sheepishly.

“Okay” The president said. “Though I think the senior staff will be busy enough right now without me adding an averted apocalypse to the mix.”

“Oh right” Aziraphale said. “Multiple Sclerosis, about that…”

“Angel…” Really, is warning Aziraphale not to act stupidly all Crowlet did these days?

“I know I can’t cure him darling, Pestilence is mad enough as it is right now.” He turned to the president. “I am sorry, sir.”

The president waved that away. He didn’t expect to be cured.

“I can put it in a very long remission though” There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “Thirty years perhaps?”

“Twenty.” Crowley said. “You just had your lion head nearly cut off.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Alright” He waved his hand. The president didn’t actually feel any different.

The Angel looked at Crowley expectantly. “What?” Crowley hissed. “No. I just reattached your lion head.”

“Right, of course” Aziraphale looked chastened and took Crowley’s hand. “I’m sorry dear.”

Crowley looked up at the ceiling shaking his head. “Satan’s sake” He too waved his hand.

“Oh, that's… Thank you” Aziraphale beamed at him.

The president looked between the two. “I don’t actually understand what just happened”

“The next MS attack will only happen in a very long while” The angel promised.

“Thank you.” the president said.

“No need” Aziraphale smiled. “We should get going” He climbed to his feet, pulling Crowley up with him. Crowley tried to straighten up but almost lost his footing and ended up leaning heavily on the angel.  
“Oh dear, you’re going to have to get some rest before we head back home.”

“Seems so.” Crowley agreed, fighting to keep his eyes opened.

“I can give you a room in the residence” The president offered hesitantly.

“That’s very kind” Aziraphale said “but Crowley, how do you feel about a trip down to New York? We could get a suit mmm? Take in the sights once you're rested? Make a trip of it?”

“Haven't been to New York since the twenties.” Crowley mused. “Sounds good Angel”

“Wonderful” The angel turned to the president. “Thank you, sir.” there was the soft sound of wings fluttering and then they were gone.

The president of the United States sat back down in the Oval Office and poured another drink. Soon he will have to face the day. The press, the party, his own staff. All mixed up in that he will also have to mourn the woman who had a very large part in making him who he was, but somewhere in New York there will be an angel and a demon sharing a suit and taking in the sites. And damned if that didn’t make him smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!  
> any and every kudos and comment is very appriciated!


End file.
